


Atonement

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bloodplay, Bondage, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Rimming, Survival's guilt, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fisting, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione seeks atonement for her actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005

Harry would have been 21 today.  
  
  
That was the first thought that ran through Hermione’s mind when she woke up that morning. Throughout the day, when she was not busy researching a new potion that her Lord had discovered in a rare text he had confiscated from a recently departed enemy or protecting her thoughts from those around her, her mind drifted back four years, before everything changed.   
  
  
She used to think about them often. Harry, Ron, Neville, Lupin, and a dozen others who had become her second family since she had entered the wizarding world at the tender age of eleven. During the first six months of her captivity, they were all she thought about. Ron’s face as he yelled at her to run before a flash of green ended his life. Neville’s body, twisted and scarred, discovered at the gates of Hogwarts following his two week disappearance after a mission to Dover.   
  
  
Lupin’s eyes, sad and lifeless, as he surveyed the carnage following a battle outside of Glasgow. Harry’s face the last time she had seen him. Smiling tenderly before giving her a brief kiss, hugging her tight as he wished her luck, making her promise the same thing he did every time they separated. _I will survive. No matter what it takes, I’ll survive and we’ll see each other again._ She could still hear the echo of Ron’s voice as he made the promise, Neville’s, Seamus’, Dean’s, Harry’s, her own.   
  
  
That promise to Harry had given her the incentive to survive after she was captured. Malfoy and Macnair had spent months trying to break her with no success. Even when her body was in such pain that breathing hurt, even when she was silently praying for death, her will to live, to keep her promise to Harry, had kept her alive. Her tenacity ended up saving her, though, even now three years later, there were times she wished she had broken that promise.   
  
  
Three months of torture had not broken her. Her mind would drift as her body was abused, mentally reciting books she had read, memories giving her strength, the belief that Harry would save her giving her hope. She had felt the curses, the pain overwhelming, but she did not give them the satisfaction of screaming. There were no tears, no pleas for mercy, just silence and a blank look that infuriated Malfoy and annoyed Macnair. She endured three months before He came to see her.   
  
  
It was her first look at him, pale flesh, red eyes, raspy voice. She had refused to show any fear, having learned how to conceal her emotions during DA practices thus giving her an insight in how to prevent him from reading her mind. That was the first time he made her an offer. Join him and live or refuse and continue the torture until she either broke or died. She had silently turned her gaze away from him, giving him his answer.   
  
  
That became the new pattern to her days. Voldemort would visit, telling her in detail of his success and the deaths of even more people she considered friends. He tempted her with knowledge and books, the prospect of learning, knowing her well enough to know what offers to make to gain her attention but overly confident, lacking any faith in her devotion to Harry. Another month before her hope died and she finally broke.   
  
  
Harry’s death changed everything. She could no longer wrap her mind in the foolish belief that he would miraculously save her and that the world would be right again. She had expected to die, knowing there was no reason for Voldemort to keep her alive now, but a week later he had visited her again, triumphant and smug, making her the offer one last time. This time she accepted, her whispered ‘yes’ faint and reluctant.   
  
  
That’s when he began to put her back together again. Books that she had only ever dreamed of reading placed in her eager hands, her mind put back to use, her proficiency in potions earning her more freedom as she was eventually allowed access to a laboratory. She kept her promise to Harry even as her dreams were plagued with the faces of her friends, damning her for the choice she had made, haunting her every night. Voldemort trained her mind, taught her more than she had ever learned at Hogwarts, while Bellatrix and Rodolphus had trained her in ways of torture. They had become her teachers in the ways to kill, to torment, to make one suffer until they were begging for death, obeying their Lord’s instructions even as they resented her, at the time, due to her blood.   
  
  
During the next year, she changed. It was inevitable, really. She was no longer Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend, Head Girl, Order member. She was Hermione Granger, captive, reluctant Death Eater, Devil’s concubine. It had only been four months following her choice that Voldemort had begun to share her bed. She would like to claim he had forced her but he had done nothing except seduce her mind and tempt her body.   
  
  
She rarely thought of her old life any more. Faces had become vague, memories faded, voices mere whispers. The nightmares pretty much stopped after she killed for the first time. Her first kill had been Macnair, the man who had tortured her for months. Hermione had used everything the Lestranges had taught her, savoring his screams, any last vestiges of the girl she had once been dying along with him.  
  
  
Months went by with only faint recollections of the life she had once lived. She adapted, earning a reputation as she made her teachers proud, gaining respect from those who had never shown her anything but contempt, and she became someone she no longer recognized. A part of her would like to think she was not a monster, that somewhere inside was compassion and love, that she could feel something other than indifference, anger, and need, but every time she looked in the mirror she saw the truth. She was what he had made her, what she had allowed herself to become, and she did not hate this bitter and cold creature because she was alive and had purpose, even if it was not at all what she had planned for her future even fours years ago.   
  
  
But there were some days that she could not simply exist without guilt and shame for what she had become, without acknowledging that she had betrayed her friends and herself, without a need to suffer penance for the choices she had made, to seek atonement for her sins. The birthdays of those who died to keep her safe, the day she had first been captured outside Dublin, the day she had said ‘yes’ to the offer to sell her soul to the Devil. Harry’s voice was in hear head as she walked down the hallway, condemning her for becoming nothing more than a whore, blaming her for surviving when everyone else had perished, denouncing her as the enemy for sharing Voldemort’s bed, penetrating the defenses she normally kept around her emotions.   
  
  
Her head was held high as she entered the room. The others were there waiting for her, knowing what was to come. This was not the first time she had sought atonement for her actions nor would it be the last. Crimson eyes caught hers, his lips twisting into a smirk as she walked towards him, the floor cool beneath her bare feet.   
  
  
“I can smell your weakness, child. It surrounds you, the stench of humanity, fear and shame. You are not deserving of my mark, of my touch.”  
  
  
“I am sorry, my Lord.” Hermione brushed her lips against the back of his hand. His words were familiar as were hers. He found her disgusting and pathetic on these days, his eyes letting her know he would sooner curse her himself than indulge her need for penance. He enjoyed her suffering, however, so he allowed her this punishment. She knew if it continued, if she did not eventually grow hard and unfeeling, that he would not hesitate in killing her for being vulnerable and inadequate even if only for a few days a year.   
  
  
“You disgust me.” He hissed as his eyes narrowed. “That foolish boy was going to be the death of you. I have given you life yet you stand before me wishing to repent for choosing me. I should kill you.”  
  
  
“If that is your wish, my Lord.”  
  
  
“My wish is for this remorse of yours to be no more. I believe this is the last time I shall spoil you, my dear. I shall not have my companion wallowing in guilt and showing any sign of weakness to my supporters. It is time for the ghosts of your past to be put to rest. Do you understand?”  
  
  
“I understand,” she whispered softly. “May I seek penance one last time, my Lord?”  
  
  
“Yes, you may,” he relented sharply. His eyes moved to look at the handsome couple standing to his right. “Make her scream for me, Bella.”  
  
  
“As you wish, my Lord,” Bellatrix promised as she moved forward slowly, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she reached Hermione.  
  
  
“Make her regret feeling guilt over that silly boy’s death, Lestrange,” Voldemort commanded quietly.  
  
  
“With pleasure, my Lord,” Rodolphus smiled cruelly as he took a step towards his Lord’s lover.  
  
  
Hermione caught the eyes of her teachers, shivering at the sadistic gleam as they reached for her. She trusted no one any more but she knew they would not kill her. She wanted them to hurt her, loved the pleasurable pain they would inflict in their own unique ways, able to feel atonement when they were using her. Only when she was between them did the guilt fade, only when her body was writhing in the delightful mixture of pain and pleasure did the nightmares stop, only when her Lord’s voice reached her as they gave her release did she feel alive once again.   
  
  
Bellatrix caught her mouth in a bruising kiss, biting her lips and licking away the blood. Rodolphus was behind her, deftly removing her robe before forcing her arms over her head, his voice deep in her ear as he said, “ _Boundiosa._ ”  
  
  
Hermione felt the magical restraints tighten around her wrists as Bellatrix released her mouth. The older witch laughed as she struggled to stand, her body forced to put her weight on the tips of her toes as the bindings pulled her arms until they felt as if they might slip from their socket. Rodolphus moved his foot between her legs, forcing them apart until they were spread widely before repeating the spell and binding them in place. She felt the same tremor of fear as she was completely at their mercy, a word neither Lestrange knew the definition of, her relationship with them student and teacher more than lover, their respect and grudging admiration for her something she had earned over the past years but always tentative and seemingly ready to snap at any moment should she displease them.   
  
  
_What if this was the one time they didn’t stop even after she reached her limit? Would he allow them to kill her?_   
  
  
Those questions always ran through her mind during these visits, which were not necessarily dependent on the times she felt guilty and a need for penance. She enjoyed being their pet in a way that surprised her, always finding pleasure in their games, but it was an infrequent enjoyment because her Lord was not in a habit of sharing. Even now, when he was disgusted and angry with her, she could feel his heated gaze moving over her bare skin, could feel his pleasure at seeing her suffer, knew he was aroused and eager to hear her scream but she also felt the jealousy through their connection, hot and sharp, waves of resentment spreading through her mind as he watched his two most loyal supporters give her something that he could not.   
  
  
_Death Eater’s whore._  
  
  
Harry’s accusing voice whispered in her ear as four hands moved over her body, squeezing and bruising her pale flesh, teeth biting her neck, breasts, shoulders, and back. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she tried to ignore the voice of her old friend. A hand hit her cheek hard, her head flying to the side as her eyes opened instantly.  
  
  
“Never close your eyes on us, Mudblood,” Bellatrix warned. She picked up a knife and ran her tongue along the blade, smiling as she looked into Hermione’s eyes. “Are you ready to play, whore?”  
  
  
Hermione gasped when the blade pierced her skin, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as Bellatrix began to move the knife along the curve of her breasts. The knife was Bella’s favorite, charmed to heat as it cut, the scent of burning flesh reaching her nostrils as a tongue lapped at the blood flowing from the wound. She was concentrating on the pain in her breasts so the feel of leather hitting her back caught her by surprise. “Oh,” she cried out softly as Rodolphus laughed darkly.   
  
  
“That’s a good girl. Scream for us, pet,” he urged as the leather strap hit her back again. He varied the force of his strokes, letting the leather hit her back, shoulders, arse, and legs as he whipped her. She turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes moving over his imposing and dangerous form as he smirked at her. He was still very handsome despite being nearly fifty, his hair and eyes black, his frame no longer showing the years spent in Azkaban. She enjoyed watching them work, learning everything she knew about torture and pleasure from pain during her months as their eager pupil.   
  
  
“Such a docile little pet,” Bellatrix cooed as Hermione screamed when the blade cut into her stomach at the same time the whip hit her arse. “Dirty little Mudblood whore, you’re soaking wet.”  
  
  
Hermione whimpered when Bella’s fingers entered her cunt, two fingers moving inside her as the dark-haired witch licked the blood from her stomach. She felt a tongue licking the wounds on her back, saliva mixing with blood before the leather was once again striking her. The pain was unbelievable, sweet misery, her eyes finding her Lord’s as she whimpered and cried out. The whipping and blade scarring her flesh as Bella moved two fingers inside her. His eyes were narrowed, watching her closely, anger and arousal causing them to glow a deep crimson.  
  
  
“Fuck her, Bella. Give the bitch what she wants, what she craves.” Rodolphus swung the whip again, catching the back of her knees with enough force that she lost her footing. Hermione cried out in pain as her knees bent, pulling her arms harshly against their magical bindings.   
  
  
“Clumsy little Mudblood,” Bellatrix laughed in delight at the expression of pain on Hermione’s pretty face. Neither of them stopped their actions to help her stand, laughing as she struggled , her body twisting in pain and agony as she tried to regain her balance, the bounds around her ankles tightening as she shifted.   
  
  
When she was finally standing again, her toes aching from supporting her weight, the whip still striking her back as Rodolphus alternated between hitting her and licking her, Bellatrix added a third finger to those plunging into her cunt. She was kneeling now, the knife on the floor beside her, three fingers thrusting in and out as Hermione’s juices flowed. Harry’s voice was in her ear, calling her a shameful slag for finding this torture arousing. _I died trying to save you and this is how you honor me? You’re a disgrace. Whore!_  
  
  
His voice was faint, not nearly as loud as it had once been. Hermione felt lips on her arse, Rodolphus’ tongue sliding between her cheeks. Fingernails dug into her palms as he began to fuck her arse, his tongue entering her as his fingers spread her cheeks. Lapping and licking, his breath warm against her skin as he thrust in and out. Bellatrix was still plunging three fingers into her, the knife picked up again, moving along her upper thigh, an intricate ‘B’ now marking her flesh as the blood was licked away.   
  
  
Rodolphus withdrew his tongue and suddenly the hard handle of the whip was pressing inside her arse. Her muscles clenched, fighting the intrusion, her back arching as his hand gripped her stomach to keep her from moving away. His fingers moved over the wound his wife had made, fresh blood dripping down her skin as Bellatrix added a fourth finger into her cunt. Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked at the striking witch kneeling at her feet.   
  
  
Bellatrix laughed as she saw the flash of fear Hermione knew must be in her eyes. Rodolphus was moving the handle in and out of her arse, his hand slapping her cheeks hard enough to leave bruises. “Going to fill you up, pet,” Rodolphus purred as he stood up, his hand still moving the whip. “Fuck her, Bella.”  
  
  
“With pleasure.” Bellatrix leaned forward, her tongue moving along Hermione’s clit as four fingers continued fucking her. She gasped when she felt the thumb added, blood dripping from her palms as she felt herself stretching to accommodate the penetration. It was too much, hurt so bad, the whip still thrusting into her arse as Bella's entire hand was pushing inside her.  
  
  
“Stop,” she finally begged, the first time she had ever asked them to stop. Bellatrix paused, her head swiftly looking towards their Lord for instruction.   
  
  
“Continue,” Voldemort demanded sharply. “Punish her for being weak. Make her scream, Bella.”  
  
  
Bellatrix laughed as she moved her hand, all five fingers slowly entering Hermione. Hermione could feel dampness on her cheeks from the silent tears she was crying. Finally, the fingers were inside her. She felt Bellatrix make a fist, her muscles clenching around her wrist as the fist began to move. It felt like she was being punched, long fingernails scraping her insides, a malicious smile on the full lips of the woman kneeling before her. She was crying out with each thrust, a scream ripped from her lips as the whip was removed and Rodolphus entered her arse in one stroke.   
  
  
“Please,” she whimpered, no longer certain what she was begging for. It hurt so much, the pain bringing tears to her eyes, her lips bloody from where she had bitten them. Yet the voices in her head were silent, the only sound that of her moans, Bella’s laughter, and Rodolphus’ groans. Her Lord was silent, his eyes on them, watching her punishment. She came with a soft cry, her eyes rolling back as her muscles tightened.   
  
  
“Good pet,” Rodolphus growled as he entered her deeply and came, his seed spilling into grasping arse.  
  
  
Bellatrix pulled her hand out of Hermione, licking her fingers as she fell back against the floor, her hand moving between her legs. “Release her, love. I want her face between my thighs now.”  
  
  
“ _Finite incantatem_.” Rodolphus released her, shoving her forward to her knees. His fingers tangled in her long brown curls as he moved her face against Bellatrix’s wet cunt.   
  
  
Hermione began to lick and suck, loving the bitterly sweet taste of Bellatrix. Her body was covered in sweat, blood, and saliva, her legs coated with her release, Rodolphus’ come dripping from her arse. Muscles were sore, aching, it was painful to move, knife marks on her front and whip marks on her back. She felt familiar hands on her hips, the brush of a robe against her sensitive skin, and then he was entering her.   
  
  
“You enjoy the pain, the suffering, the punishment. I see it in your eyes as they use you, taking what you offer so freely. Guilt is for the weak, silly little girl. You are no longer weak. You want this not because you desire penance but because you want to be consumed by emotion. It is your escape. Watch her face as you touch her, feel the power and control as you give her pleasure.”  
  
  
Hermione moved against her Lord, his voice rasping in her ear as Rodolphus pulled her hair, fucking his wife with her face. She watched Bella’s face as she licked and fucked her cunt, using her tongue and fingers to bring her to the brink, teasing her. Her tongue lapped at the wet lips, curling up and entering her, stroking the sides of her cunt as she moved her finger in circles over Bella’s clit.   
  
  
Voldemort continued whispering to her, telling her about control and power, reminding her who she had become, who she was now. The voices in her head were quiet as she regained control, her amber eyes nearly gold as she felt his cock sliding in and out of her, his words seducing her as she nipped at Bella’s clit, feeling the older woman writhe beneath her, laughing softly as she heard the soft whimper of 'please' from her teacher’s lips. A long finger brushed against her clit, scraping the swollen bud as her Lord entered her more forcefully.   
  
  
“Make her scream, Hermione,” Rodolphus urged huskily, his eyes on his wife’s face as she thrashed around, her hands squeezing her breasts and soft moans of desperate need spilled from her parted lips.   
  
  
Three fingers thrust into Bella’s cunt as Hermione licked her clit, her muscles squeezing her Lord’s cock as he took her roughly, his hands moving along her breasts and ribs as he fucked her. She lost herself in the scents and sensations of the three people who mattered most in her new life. Bella’s orgasm was powerful, a scream of pleasure followed by a flood of release. Hermione lapped it up, sharing the taste with Rodolphus when he kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as his hand joined hers between his wife’s legs.   
  
  
She was suddenly pulled back, her back hitting the floor as Voldemort began to penetrate her deeply, his eyes catching hers as he moved back and forth. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his robe covering her body as he leaned forward and kissed her possessively, his long fingernails scraping the wounds on her body, the floor rubbing the whip marks on her back. His mouth caught her whimper as she came, her muscles milking his cock as he spilled into her.   
  
  
When he finally released her mouth, she could barely keep her eyes open. Her body was sore, aching, pain underlying the pleasure she felt. A sated smile crossed her lips as she closed her eyes, the voices in her head silent. He stood up, her body lying in his arms as she rested her head on his shoulder, exchanging brief kisses with Bellatrix and Rodolphus before he carried her from the play room. She felt relaxed, satisfied, calm, and knew she would be fine until the voices began whispering again, until the nightmares started, and then it would be time for her penance. And she would once again escape in the sensations, desire, pain, and atonement that her teachers provided so well.   
  
  
The End


End file.
